Friday, July 5, 2013

It was about 4:00 p.m.

I approached a tattered church. The doors and windows were boarded up, discarded clothing and trash were strewn about. One sad tree stood in front. And the air smelled like strawberries. How? I stopped. There was a low breeze. Unopened mail skittered across the dirty sidewalk, past my feet. It was unmistakable. Strawberries.


  1. Beautiful story, like a ray of sunshine.

  2. I'm intrigued - were there wild strawberries growing in the undergrowth...or perhaps there was 'something' in the air that gave one the 'scent' of strawberries....?

  3. I've wondered what would be the scent of holiness.